


Out The Window

by Cephy



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-11
Updated: 2008-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cephy/pseuds/Cephy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An account of how Guy became so comfortable going in and out of Luke's bedroom window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out The Window

**Author's Note:**

> Assumes knowledge of Guy's backstory.

The entire household watched surreptitiously as their lord entered the courtyard with his son in tow, strained their ears to hear what he said through very vocal protests.

"You are thirteen years of age," was what they heard. "You cannot be making excuses for this kind of childish behaviour. You are the son of a Duke, and in line for the throne of Kimlasca-Lanvaldear; it is high time you started acting as such."

And with that, the duke climbed the stairs to Luke's room, pushed the child himself through the door and locked it shut. He walked away without looking back, though the cries coming from behind that locked door, the sounds of small fists pounding on it, were impossible not to hear.

Guy watched along with the rest, peering out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't move away from his position. Instead, he simply waited for Pere to finish loading his arms with the tools to be put away and then took them wordlessly to the storage room. It wasn't a servant's business, after all, the doings of nobles-- not even if that servant was the young master's own attendant.

A short while later, though, when the sun had gone down and the rest of the household had retreated indoors, he gave Pere some excuse-- one that he was fairly sure the old man saw right through, and it really wasn't fair how he seemed to know Guy better than Guy knew himself, sometimes-- and crept through the darkening manor until he stood below Luke's window. He tipped his head, considered the lip of stone below the window, the rose trellis to one side-- as he'd done before in that exact spot, though for entirely different reasons. From past examination he knew it would be possible, with a bit of effort--

There were distinct sniffling sounds coming from inside the room, occasionally accompanied by a rather soggy hiccup. Guy gave a resigned mental shrug before stepping up and starting to look for handholds.

When he slipped in the window at last , he found himself faced with large, terrified green eyes peering over the edge of the bed. "Hey, you," he said gently, "What did you do this time?"

There was a long pause, as if someone in the room was holding his breath, and then the eyes blinked. "_Guy?!_"

All of a sudden he had a small body clinging to him, shaking. "Whoa, whoa." He patted at the boy's shoulder uncertainly and was rewarded by a slight uncurling of fingers. "What's the matter?"

"You're here," was the mumbled reply, muffled in Guy's shirt. "You can-- you have to help me." And Luke looked up at last, all wild red hair and tear-marked face. "One of the maids said-- they were talking about _monsters_, all kinds of them, big ones with-- with teeth and claws--"

Luke shuddered, and Guy made a mental note to have a word with the maids about their topics of conversation. Or, well, maybe get Pere to do it, since they usually seemed more interested in poking Guy to see him squirm than in listening to him. "You know there's no monsters inside the city," he tried.

"No, I _know_ I've heard one outside my room," Luke insisted. "It's there every night, it's been _watching_ me, and I know it's just waiting to sneak in here when it's dark and _eat_ me. Just like it did those people the maids were talking about. That's why I was going to find you, earlier," he went on, "before the Knights saw me and took me to Father--"

"You were coming to me?" Guy asked, astonished and also a bit uneasy, wondering if he was going to hear about this from the duke, wondering--

"They thought I was going to Mother," Luke said dismissively, and Guy relaxed. "But she's not strong enough, it would get her too. But _you_ could fight it off." Luke looked up with those damnably trusting green eyes, and Guy tried not to think of the irony in the way that Luke was willing to trust _him_ when he didn't even seem to consider going to his own father. "You will, right?"

Guy heaved a purely internal sigh. "Of course," he reassured-- because what else could one really say to a look like _that_?-- and Luke sagged in relief. "Listen," Guy went on, "you go ahead to sleep and I'll keep watch. Okay?"

The boy nodded happily, curling up under the blankets when directed and drifting off within moments, perfectly relaxed. Guy watched him, thinking-- eyes lingering on the pulse in his throat, knowing just how easy it would be in that moment-- and then he sighed, looking away towards the window, where he watched the night pass.

He reached out to shake Luke's shoulder near dawn, when the sky was starting to lighten. Luke blinked up at him at first, sleepy, then his eyes widened and he bolted upright. "Was it here? Did you get it?"

The answer took barely a moment's consideration. "Yes, and yes." He smiled down at the boy. "You don't have to worry about it anymore."

Luke looked around like he expected to see a monster corpse right there on his floor-- maybe he did, by the disappointed look that came over him when he didn't find one. The boy chewed his lip for a moment, his expression uncertain. "But," he said, "what if there's more than one?"

And there were those eyes again, big and shining and hopeful, and though it was with a sinking sensation that he did it, Guy agreed to come back the following night.

_I'm going to have to sneak off for a nap today_, he thought ruefully, climbing down the wall. _Maybe Pere can cover for me for a few hours_. Still, as he slipped through the early dawn shadows and avoided the few sleepy-eyed maids in the halls, he found that somehow-- he didn't mind that much.

* * *

"Guy! There you are." Luke ran towards him, grinning enough to split his face in two. His mother followed behind at a more sedate pace, so Guy made sure to bow the correct amount, to keep his voice on the safe side of friendly when he spoke. "Happy birthday, Master Luke."

Luke made a face at the title, but thankfully didn't say anything. "They've got you working too, hunh?" was all he said, looking at the armload of tablecloths Guy was toting with him.

"Of course, Luke," Madame Susanne said. "Everyone is working to make this day a special one for you."

Luke made another face-- thankfully, again, not where his mother could see it-- but the grin wasn't gone for long. "Did you hear?" he asked, "Master Van might be coming tonight! And last time he said that the next time he was here he'd teach me a new move, since I was getting so good."

The young lord was puffed up with pride-- and Guy kept the exaggerated roll of his eyes purely internal, knowing that while Luke would understand, the good Madame might not be so forgiving of a servant teasing her son. He merely said his congratulations, as any good servant would, and shifted his armload with only a bit of a pointed look-- Luke smirked at him but went on ahead after that, no doubt to be dressed and groomed and fussed over within an inch of his life before the dinner began.

Much later, when the feast was over and the sun had set, and the ranks of servants had finally been released from the kitchens, Guy hoisted himself over Luke's windowsill and settled there. "How was dinner?"

Luke groaned as he flopped back on his bed, "Boo~oring. Master Van didn't make it, after all," he added, sounding dejected.

Guy shifted over to the edge of the bed, leaning back against the wall. "That's too bad. I'm sure he would have come if he was able-- you don't turn sixteen every day, after all."

Luke made some vague sound, arm slung over his face, and Guy let him sit like that for a moment before heaving an audible sigh. "So I guess you're too depressed to want any more of a celebration, then." And when Luke cracked an eye open, Guy waggled a small, dusky bottle of Chesedonian liqueur in front of that inquisitive face.

"How did you--"

"I have my ways," Guy answered with a smirk. "So. You want some?"

Luke's eager grin was answer enough.

_This wasn't supposed to happen_, he thought later, feeling pleasantly fuzzy as he looked down the neck of the bottle and saw far too little liquid left at the bottom. He really hadn't intended to let it go this far-- didn't take into account what a lightweight Luke would be, though he wasn't sure what his own excuse was. He made a mental note to catch Luke early and keep them both out of the line of sight of the duke, if possible, at least until the worst of the inevitable hangover passed.

Just when he was about to make his excuses and head out before one or both of them passed out, Luke quite suddenly grabbed his arm, tugged him insistently forward-- and kissed him.

Guy's mind, after a moment of shock, helpfully began listing all of the reasons they shouldn't be doing what they were doing, beginning with the whole _artificially enforced dependence_ thing right through to the _only effectively six years old_ thing, hitting on _but you've sworn to kill him someday_ several times in the process. It even presented him with a somehow guilty image of Vandesdelca, which didn't really make sense considering that his erstwhile servant had never shown sign of even noticing Guy's little crush, much less that he wanted to do anything about it, so it's not like anyone could say Guy was _cheating_ on him.

And Luke did look awfully appealing with his cheeks flushed like that, his hair spread out across the coverlet-- wait, since when were they lying down?

Breaking away, he pushed Luke back with a faintly unsteady hand. "No, Luke-- stop."

Luke protested, of course-- too loudly, probably, considering that he was supposed to be asleep and Guy wasn't even supposed to be there-- but Guy quieted him by the simple expedient of a hand over his mouth. He most definitely did _not_ notice the way Luke's lips kept moving against his palm even after, definitely didn't. "Look," he tried again, a little bit desperate, "at least wait until we're both sober, okay? Think about it in the morning and see if you want to try this again. This-- really isn't the way to do this."

Luke looked petulant for a second, then thoughtful for a longer moment before finally he nodded-- and then his eyes slid shut as he unceremoniously passed out. Guy sighed, rubbing his forehead-- relieved, though also obscurely disappointed, and when exactly had he decided that he wanted this?-- before disentangling himself and pulling up the blankets over the limply sprawled figure of his master. He hesitated only a little before leaning down and brushing a kiss over Luke's forehead, lingering a little to smoothe back his hair with the overly careful movements of one who might have had a bit too much.

It would be so easy to just lie down, keep moving his hands through Luke's hair, and drift off to sleep himself-- but he knew he wouldn't wake up before dawn, and that would be bad. He could only imagine the reaction if he was found there in the morning with an empty bottle beside him and an overly cuddly, _underage_ noble son in his arms.

Shaking his head, he turned to go, heading towards a window that seemed somehow wobblier than it should have been. He paused with one foot on the sill, then turned back and carefully moved the wastebasket close to the edge of the bed before leaving. Just in case.

* * *

It was a good thing, Guy mused, that long familiarity allowed him to find the proper handholds without looking, because autumn in Baticul was _dark_.

Luke grinned at him as he pulled himself over the edge and tugged the window closed behind him. The young lord was sitting cross-legged on his bed, legs bouncing in place impatiently as Guy moved across the room-- as soon as Guy was in range, though, he surged up and grabbed hold, tumbling them both over onto the bed even as he crushed their mouths together.

Guy laughed lightly into the kiss as he let himself get bowled over, meeting Luke's narrow look with an arch of eyebrows. Luke was too often still more enthusiasm than thought, but luckily Guy had found that if he ended up with a few bruises or a bit of an ache when he walked the next day, he didn't really mind much. Or at all. And besides, he usually managed to leave a few bruises of his own, though he did take care that they weren't in places that would show when Luke inevitably walked out in that open-fronted coat he seemed to favour of late.

Luke fumbled to the side with one hand even as his other was working the fastenings of Guy's trousers, and he made a small sound of victory as he dug out the lube from under the mattress-- Guy made a mental note to get more the next time he was down in the city, seeing how little was left. As usual, Luke hurried them through minimal foreplay and went straight for the prize, but it was good, Yulia bless, it was _good_, and Guy tipped his head back and rode it out, reaching for himself when he felt Luke shudder above him only to have his own grip be joined by a lazy hand. He lost himself on a gasp and the image of a fiercely burning green gaze boring into his own.

He came back to himself to find Luke lying curled beside him, eyes closed and a silly smile on his face. Guy snorted, and one of those green eyes cracked open. "What?"

"You, being so smug," Guy replied with a teasing grin. "That barely lasted five minutes; that's got to be a new record for us."

"Shut up," Luke groaned, but the protest was without any real power behind it, and the silly grin was still firmly in place. Guy watched it for a moment longer, then sighed and levered himself up, beginning to put his clothes in order.

He looked back to find Luke watching him, face unreadable. "What?"

"I wish you didn't have to leave all the time," Luke answered quietly.

"You know that--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Luke waved a hand, closing his eyes again. "I just-- I dunno. It'd be nice if you could stay for once."

For a moment, Guy truly didn't know what to say-- knew what he might want to say, maybe, or maybe not-- "Well, you won't always be stuck here," he started, then thought, _I won't always be stuck here_, though he carefully avoided thinking about what that particular occurrence would mean, as he seemed to do more and more often.

"Yeah, only three more _years_ until they let me out," Luke grumbled to the ceiling.

"Tell you what," Guy tried again, more easily, "after your twentieth birthday, we'll set out on a trip around the entire world, just the two of us. We'll see the sights, laze around in fancy hotels--"

_I'll take you with me_, is what he didn't say, _after I-- after. If you can forgive me for it. You can come to Malkuth with me, when I reclaim my name--_

"What do you think?" He arched his eyebrows, waiting.

Luke looked dubious. "It's still a long way off."

"Well, yes. But it's worth waiting for, wouldn't you say? Though who knows," he added with a grin, "maybe you'll be tired of me by then."

He'd spoken lightly, but Luke sat up and looked at him solemnly. "Never," came the promise, and though it would have been easy to hear it as nothing more than a child's naive, unwavering certainty, Guy knew _Luke_, and he knew that his young master was utterly serious. He found himself warmed through by the words, even as he once again acknowledged the fact that he was utterly and completely doomed.

"Well, then. It'll happen. You'll see." He smiled, in a way that almost didn't feel at all forced, and leaned in to steal one last kiss before slipping out the window and away.


End file.
